


Street talents

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock BBC
Genre: M/M, Randomness, street musician au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:43:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a crazy little one shot about Sherlock  being a street musician and meeting John in St.Pete Florida.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Street talents

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii! I made this on a whim. story ideas just pop up, I had to feed the plot bunnies before I lost them. I will continue this if I get a minimum of 3 comments. Peace out! Also, the gelato shop mentioned was Pasugio's,which I probably spelled incorrectly.

Sherlock had moved to the Americas awhile ago. Mycroft had become too obnoxious to handle, so he simply packed his violin and clothes, and got on the cheapest flight farthest away he could. It only so happened that the random town he had picked was quite appreciative of street musicians. No one could stand 2 minutes of him while his mouth was moving, and no job opportunities appeared. The summers were living hell, but Sherlock was too proud to play on the street untill the temperature spiked 24 degrees. He gave in, and played nights outside a gelato shop downtown. It was just enough for a cramped apartment in the worst side of town. One of these unbearably hot nights is where our story takes roots and begins to grow.

John Watson did not want to be in Florida. He didn't want to be sweltering on a sidewalk outside a gelato shop in downtown of a place he had never heard of in America, but his therapist thought it would do him good, to be in a change of scenery. John thought it was foolish, but he had never had 7 years of college for clinical psychology, so he took her word for it. And was currently deeply regretting it. The only upside was some sweet, twisting and spiraling violin music being produced by a rather attractive looking man on the park bench across from him. - rather attractive? You're not gay, Watson. Not Gay. No matter how much he looks like a bloody statue of some god.- John thought, shaking his head simultaneously. The man across from him was thin and tall, with skin too pale to be a local. His hair was dark and curly, shrouding his high-cheekboned face in a black halo. His eyes were icy and cold, calculating and intelligent. His appearance greatly differed from the other musicians John had seen, with weathered cheeks and leathery skin, the man had the looks of a noble family's son. His clothes were a exceptionally worn but clean deep purple dress shirt, black dress pants and midnight leather shoes. His slender fingers drew the bow back and forth over the mahogany violin's strings, creating the music that settled into the rithem of the night. 

Sherlock looked to the man on the other side of the sidewalk. He was staring. Military build, as well as stature. Short, practical haircut that also pointed to military service. His eyes were a sparkling, shining bright blue that Sherlock felt oddly attracted to. He limped only when no one was looking. Psychosomatic, then. His jacket was a British brand, as was his shoes and pants. Sherlock felt a odd little thrill, finding someone from the same place as him. He pulled the bow from the violin, turning his head to meet the gaze of the bright eyed man "Dollar for a song, if you'd be so kind?"  
He drawled. Normally he wouldn't be half as courteous, but being polite had increased the money he made, so Sherlock choked down his attitude. "Um, ah, sure." The man stuttered. Sherlock placed the bow back upon the violin strings, pulling his stature into a playing position. "And what will I be playing?" He inquired. "I don't know, whatever you play best." The man replied. "Before I begin, May I ask your name?" Sherlock suggested slyly. "John. " the man said. John Watson."


End file.
